


Like a Dark River

by Butter_Snake



Category: Deus Ex (Video Games), Deus Ex: Human Revolution
Genre: Aug Kink, Betrayal, Enemies to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:02:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27379894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butter_Snake/pseuds/Butter_Snake
Summary: The First Man in love with the Snake.
Relationships: Adam Jensen/Jaron Namir
Kudos: 3





	Like a Dark River

_-*-_-*-_-*-_

In front of his eyes, the red messages were decaying into purple and green, turning into overlapping shadows that spoke with gestures instead of words.

Gestures like the shimmer of light on the surface of a river, glistening like volcanic glass. Gestures like the swirling of flame-red autumn leaves, wandering down the water like lost boats.

And lost he was -- plucked out from his time and surroundings. He was in his boyhood once more, swimming in the beautiful river -- the river that had drawn him in so much, loved him so much -- opening its deep, welcoming bosom -- yet being unaware of the frailty of its visitor, nearly smothered him in its embrace.

He felt a hand reaching for his own, and expected it to be gentle -- anointed with raindrops and cattails and sunken trees -- 

Yet the hand was rigid and ungiving; was drenched and overflowing with blood -- like his own hands.

_-*-_-*-_-*-_

He wanted to tell each of his emotions apart, like how he could call Michigan’s wildflowers by their names -- Queen Anne’s lace, plumeless thistle, bittersweet nightshade… 

But pain hazed over all things; diluted all things. A thousand emotions gnawed at the bottom of his heart, and he had to swallow them hastily, lest their teeth draw blood. So they tangled up in his stomach instead, like a cluster of threads.

Presently he knew that he shan’t try to untie them, lest he pull everything tighter by mistake.

He could feel a gentle touch upon his back, fingers stroking along his spine. It was the only thing that helped him endure -- helping to soothe the hundreds of implants buried in his bones, to ease the metals that drink away heat from his blood. It was a ghostly touch -- touching him like he was a ghost, like he was a reflection in the water -- like he would unravel and shatter if the stimulation was too much.

He reached out his hands, searching for the source of this panacea -- and his fingers were stopped against blood and sinews and bones -- an open wound -- raw and unguarded and… Inviting.

He parted his lips, trying to put words to what he was desiring -- he desired to… The words would not dare to leave his tongue. But it did not matter -- for they were gazing into each other’s mind, seeing all wants and desires, small and great -- like gazing at little figurines in a snow globe.

A soft rustle of mechanical parts as the soldier bent down -- his wish was granted, and he felt his heart gladdened and quickened. He had a taste of those lips -- somewhat colder compared to the augmentations, tasting like bitter medicine -- just like his own lips.

The other held him close, just in the way he wanted, surrounding him with a body more powerful than his own -- the muscles draw tight and he shall be crushed -- he reveled in this thought. How he might be delicate and breakable, how he might die like all living creatures do.

He cupped a hand at the spherical joint of the other’s hip, brushed over a bullet wound with his palm -- pushed a finger into it.

The soldier groaned, breathed more life into his lips, grasped the muscles on his back by handful and bruised them… He knew that so long as he held fast to the other, so long as their bodies were allowed to touch -- it would be impossible to feel cold, impossible to feel pain. He would be the most invincible.

_-*-_-*-_-*-_

He thought of that dark river, of the bridge over it, of the few times he walked across the bridge at night.

He only ever dared to fix his gaze at the pavement in front of him, where his feet were to step on in the next second. Never did he dare to look over the parapet, to meet the eyes of the dark river.

The surface of the water bore no reflection -- black as the pupil of an eye.

The banks were crowded with trees and vegetation -- the lashes of this eye. 

_-*-_-*-_-*-_

He held those flayed hands, guided them over the naked skin of his chest and belly. They bore feverish heat -- along with the texture of frosted glass.

He felt those fingers twitch, as if barely able to control their power, barely able to refrain from tearing him open. He thought of the things in his apartment -- some of which he loved -- how his mechanical fingers twitched around them before they groaned and shattered.

Someone was trying to be careful around him now -- around something they love -- something they were loving at this moment. Holding him just to feel him in their hands, or to take a closer look; afraid of dropping him to the ground -- and his heart only hastened with pleasure and not fear.

He guided those hands onto the dark bits along his neck, leading the fingers to circle around them.

Slowly, the soldier swiped a thumb over the strips of metal -- from skin, to metal, and to skin once more, before leaning in to kiss them -- to nuzzle them with the tip of the nose, warm them with one’s breath.

He parted his lips and -- once more there were no words, only small cries. He found his own hands trying to grasp the buzzcut atop the soldier’s head -- or to cup those flushed cheekbone -- or just to touch around the other’s countenance, feeling around the scars and silver bolts.

And then -- kisses upon his chest, tracing the edge of the circular anchors on his breast, linking the dots together like arranging game pieces. Meanwhile the soldier's fingertips rested on his shoulders, where steel spread over his skin like pinions. 

The other caressed each of the raven feathers, before letting those hands travel down his arms, pressing into the typhoon ports, palming the joints of his elbows, swiping over the projection points of nanoblades. He could make out the reflection from the window upon his arms -- dark geometric buildings, strips of pale sky -- the illusion quivered as nanocarbon muscles jumped with pleasure; lifted itself up like a blanket to cover the other’s fingertips.

The sensation poured soft tingles down his fingers, as if he had been walking for a while in the winter cold, finally getting into a warm house -- and his limbs were resupplied with heated blood -- as if the blood from his heart had discovered a new pathway within the dead metal, and were able to flow to his fingertips once more.

_-*-_-*-_-*-_

He wondered how long he had fallen, how deep he had sunken.

He couldn’t believe it -- how easily the dark river pulled him down toward its belly, how quickly the torrents of his desire engulfed all faith and reasons.

Above him, behind the mirror surface of the water, he saw many things -- voluminous rain clouds sitting in the sky; flame-headed trees weeping over him. 

Mild currents took his hands, led him to a place that was foggy and grey. This would be where he belongs now.

_-*-_-*-_-*-_

And in this stretch of greyness he dreamed --

That like the sea he held the weight of a dead man in his bosom -- a dead man in a beautiful shirt, sleeves raised to reveal that lithe cybernetic arm -- a limb he used to find so repulsive and elegant at the same time -- the thread-like limb of some exotic bug. 

That like a cloud he perched upon the shoulder of Pangu, peering down at the world beneath the giant’s feet -- everything that was opaque and heavy. Gathering like ants, a few Harvesters circled the deflated wreck of a veetol. The cockpit was finally opened up -- and they hurried to unbuckle the burned body of the pilot, still fastened to her seat.

That like a rainstorm he muffled the sound of three gunshots. Three more bodies in the basement of Darrow’s facility -- three good scientists. And a few of his tears were wept for them.

Broad strokes ran down the obliques along his sides, fingers gently splayed. Then around they traced the front of his abs, rimming the contours of the muscles -- the lightest caress right above his button, before sweeping down his lower stomach.

They helped ease the pain inside -- and at the same time made him hard and aching, sending him onto a sharp edge. A brush of the fingertips against the underside of his shaft, a squeeze on his crown with a thumb pressed over the slit -- and another full-palmed stroke along his belly --

His cheeks were hot with arousal and guilt alike -- both sensations pulsing and unbearable, expanding in his veins and making him cry out --

So he let himself fall, let himself sink -- to be washed away into a greater sea, where all will be forgotten -- himself, the soldier in his arms -- all forgotten forever.

He arched his back as he came, folding forward, no longer able to hold up his own weight. In his long hunt his augmentations had never once failed him -- they hauled him out from one hell after another, fought for and killed for him. Yet now they chose to give in, for the gentlest of all touch is precisely the kind they could not bear.

He bowed his head, gasped and shivered -- like some stray creature, rain-soaked and weary --

And the other held him close, kissed his forehead and the bridge of his nose, before sealing his lips -- saving his cries from being lost in cold air. 

_-*-_-*-_-*-_

Of course he felt shame -- shame as a consequence of sin. Yet maybe there was still not enough of it. Not enough to stop him from getting into a bath with the soldier -- and making love again in the tub. Not enough to shake him awake from their twelve-hour nap afterwards. Not enough to hold him back from kissing the soldier now -- resting his head on a flensed arm, eyes half-shut.

“I used to fantasize that I am a creature made of broken glass -- millions of shards gathered into a single body, and given a soul. Nevertheless someone was making love with me -- crying out in agony as he was pierced all over -- as his blood poured out for me. Yet he held me closer, kissed me deeper… ”

He tilted his head a bit, gazed into the soldier’s eyes. The augmented one was of a soft, dark color; the unaltered one though, was of a chilling blue. 

Those are the eyes of his archenemy. Those are the eyes of his savior. 

Those are the eyes of the dark river, looking back into his eyes now.


End file.
